Gemotions

He drummed his fingers on the armrest, a constant, staccato rhythm against the faux-leather. Outside, the rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaotic glee bubbling inside him. The wedding? Delayed! He chortled, a low rumble in his chest. “Oh, this is rich,” he muttered, his lips curving into a wide smile. He imagined the scene: Aunt Mildred’s disapproving glare, Uncle George’s sputtering frustration. He couldn't resist. He pulled out his notebook and started sketching caricatures of the wedding party, exaggerating their features with mischievous delight.